


Magnetic

by youvebeenlivingfictional



Category: Ex Machina (2015)
Genre: ....These tags are a mess I apologize, Alcohol, Angst, Excessive Cursing, F/M, Fluff, Not beta-read, Robot Sex, i'll add more later, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youvebeenlivingfictional/pseuds/youvebeenlivingfictional
Summary: Now that you’ve met him in person, Nathan Bateman is everything and nothing like you’ve expected.
Relationships: Nathan Bateman/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Pressing Camera Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all I have been sitting on this for so long.
> 
> Chapters will err on the shorter side.

It’s just… Well it stands to reason, is all. Nathan seems to have cameras in every single other room that you’ve seen so far. Maybe it’s a little creepy to think about, but why would your guest room be any different? 

It’s the first time you’ve ever been to your boss’ research facility, despite the fact that you’ve been Nathan Bateman’s personal assistant for nearly two years. You blame that on the fact that you sort of fell into the job. 

You’d been an intern at Blue Book, working out of the same office as his previous PA, and you’d assisted her from time to time. You’d started getting CC’d on emails, pulled in on phone calls. His previous assistant was nice and all, but being Nathan Bateman’s PA was a full-time, round-the-clock, he-knows-it’s-2-AM-where-you-are-but-he-needs-this-answer-right-now kinda job. For an aloof genius, the guy is pretty high maintenance. He built his shit from the ground-up; his products and his company are regarded as the best, so he _expects_ the best.   
  
Just before your internship had come to a close, his PA had quit. Bateman had reached out to you and asked you to fill in for the time being, just until he got someone else. He offered a higher salary than you’d gotten as an intern, too. You didn’t have anything else lined up, so you’d accepted. It was supposed to be temporary.   
  
Thing is, he never did get anyone else. It’s been two years of phone calls, emails, and precisely one insanely grainy and lagged video call because the wifi in your apartment building is an atrocity.

Now that you’ve met him in person, Nathan Bateman is everything and nothing like you’ve expected.   
  
You’ve seen pictures, of course. It’s not really the physical aspects of him that have thrown you (though, if you’re pressed for the truth, you’ll admit that he’s much more handsome in person). You’re used to his humor -- sometimes dry, sometimes dark, but when you’re in front of him, you’re treated to these sardonic little smiles that accompany his quips.   
  
You’ve read interviews with and articles about the guy - the previous PA had handed you a folder full of them when she’d left and had heard that you were taking over her duties (you’d asked her why hard-copies, and moments later, an NDA had hit your inbox). The profiles from these writers always offered a sterile picture of a Promethean genius, as distant and cold and magnetic as a dead star.  
  
And they’d been a little right.   
  
Nathan _is_ magnetic. But your last two years have been spent arranging the details of the man’s life. In that time, he’s caught glimpses of yours, too -- details that can’t be found online. He’s taken hold of these tiny things, held onto them and _remembered_. You know he has because he’s teased you about them, hung little facts about your over your head like weightless anvils. Nathan is magnetic, yes. But he doesn’t seem _cold_.   
  
No-- since the second you laid eyes on him, since the brief in-person awkwardness has dropped off of you as he showed you around the facility, Nathan has _intrigued_ you. He’s like a shiny red button that you know you’re not supposed to press.

But… Well, now there’s some awkwardness again. Only, the man’s not even in the room.

Should you text and ask him if there are cameras? What the hell kind of text is that to send? Should you look for them?

Oh god, if there _are_ cameras, if he’s watching, then he’s just seen you staring into your suitcase, panic-stricken for the last five minutes as you ponder your pressing camera questions.

You’re gonna be there for the next three days; he’s mentioned that he’d like your being around to be more of a regular occurrence, if not a permanent fixture -- he went so far as to call this guest room _your_ room.

You finally manage to shake yourself from your thoughts and reach into your suitcase for your pajamas.

You’ll shower.

Yes, you showered when you got to the facility, but hell, you’ll shower again and put your pajamas on in there. The guy’s got more money than God, he can afford a slightly higher water bill this month. Besides, there surely aren’t cameras in the bathroom.

...Oh god, _are there?_


	2. Robots and Renoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t mind her.”
> 
> You didn’t even realize you had been minding her - but maybe Nathan’s noticed the way you seem to go tense whenever Kyoko’s around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cursing; alcohol consumption
> 
> Chapters will eventually have explicit sexual content

“You get lost?” 

It’s a fair question. It’s only your second time visiting the research facility, and you’re still acclimating. The place is massive, and you have got an office of your own there - but you’ve made yourself a cup of coffee and found your way back to a lounge that you’d stumbled on the first time you’d visited.  
  
“No,” You look up from your phone and raise it, waving it a little, “Just doing some housekeeping.”  
  
You lower your eyes back to your phone, and Nathan turns to go. Before he can, though, you can’t help but pry:  
  
“...You never struck me as someone that might be a fan of Impressionism.”

Nathan turns back, looks at the painting opposite you as you add, “Or are you more interested in the process than the school of thought that a work comes from?”  
  
“The process,” Nathan confirms, and you feel him glance at you as he asks, “Are you a fan of Renoir?”  
  
You shrug.  
  
“Not particularly.”  
  
“You know enough to recognize it.”  
  
“I had a mandatory art history course in college. Some stuff never left me.”  
  
You let your eyes raise back to the painting, taking in the arrays of greens, the dotting of red and white and yellow flowers.  
  
“It is calming, though.”  
  
\--  
  
“Don’t mind her.”  
  
You didn’t even realize you had been minding her - but maybe Nathan’s noticed the way you seem to go tense whenever Kyoko’s around. You weren’t introduced to her the last time you were there, even when she was in the room. She’d been referenced to like she was another piece of furniture; Nathan had waved a hand in her direction, mentioned that she helped out, wasn’t chatty. So now you nod a little, doing your best to heed Nathan’s direction.  
  
“Okay,” You agree, and then, playing a hunch that’s been nagging you since that first weekend, “Prototype?”  
  
You don’t look away from the peppers that you’re chopping as you ask, but you feel Nathan still beside you.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
You lift your head for just a second to look between where Kyoko has continued her task and where Nathan has stopped his.  
  
“Kyoko,” You nod toward her before looking back down at the cutting board, “Is she a prototype?”  
  
“...What makes you say that?”  
  
“Uhhh,” You’re regretting saying anything at all, because Nathan is shutting off the sink and turning his entire body to face you, his arms folding across his chest just as you seem to have swallowed your tongue, “You’re-- I mean, the last time I was here, you said she just helped you out, but… I don’t know, that seems like a massive hole in your security. She could still leak whatever you’re working on to someone, regardless of whether or not she knows what it is. I mean from what I’ve learned, half of Blue Book’s tech relies on closed systems to keep viruses out of the hardware and I guess I kinda just...Thought of this facility the same way. I guess it just seemed too lax for your security standards. Am I off? I’m off, huh. Forget I said anything,” You rush to add, shaking your head.  
  
There are a couple of beats of quiet before Nathan points out, “You’re here, does that count as lax?”  
  
“I don’t have access to the entire facility and the NDA I’m under is airtight-- And if I were leaking any trade secrets, you’d know by now. Plus I’d make, like, the world’s worst spy.”  
  
Nathan’s still staring at you, and you’ve never focused so hard on chopping anything in your life. It’s another few moments before you hear Nathan turn the tap on again, and you’re aware of just how hard your heart is pounding in your chest.  
  
“...Do you think an AI could paint a masterpiece?” You find yourself asking to distract from the litany to stupid things you’ve just said.  
  
“Depends,” Nathan’s tone is crisp, but curious; he doesn’t sound like he’s mad or just humoring you, you think this might actually turn into a conversation, “Do you mean recreations or works of their own?”  
  
“Works of their own.”  
  
“And how do you define masterpiece?”  
  
That conversation is enough to take you two through dinner, and you think you might, _might_ be out of the woods with that whole Kyoko thing. But then dinner is finished and the conversation isn’t, and Nathan is waving you out of the dining area, into another lounge. And he’s watching you expectantly, but you’re… Underwhelmed.  
  
“Come _on_. You can’t hate this,” He sounds almost irritated.  
  
You'd briefly tried to fake enthusiasm for something your first weekend there -- Nathan had seen right through it. Say what you will about the man, but he understands people - which is probably why he’s at the cutting edge of AI.  
  
So now you just stand with one arm folded across your middle, a beer in your other hand as you blink at the Jackson Pollack on Nathan’s wall.  
  
“I wouldn’t use the word _hate_ ,” You say carefully, “I… Do not…Like it, though. Look, if you’re going to give me the option to check my emails here or in the lounge from this morning,” You nod over your shoulder, toward the room down the hall where Nathan’s Renoir sits, “I’m going to pick the Renoir. I feel like a robot could sooner recreate _this_ than a Renoir. _This_ feels so static-- _that_ just… It breathes.”  
  
And shit, Nathan is staring at you the way he was in the kitchen. You’re not sure what the look is, exactly - you haven’t been around him long enough, but there’s something calculating about it.  
  
He finally says, “Kyoko would have an easier time reproducing a Renoir. Pollack deliberately let his mind go blank when he was working. Impressionists were employing new techniques, but they had a base-- a reference. Pollack didn’t.”  
  
You take that in.  
  
“...Are you fucking with me?”  
  
Nathan shakes his head and turns back toward the painting. You do, too.  
  
“Your instincts are there,” He says, “But the application…” He raises a hand and wavers it back and forth.  
  
“Needs work?”  
  
He grunts, and then leaves without another word. You stay put, and your mind feels as static as the canvas in front of you.


	3. Dynamic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re used to Nathan disappearing into his office, even when he knows that you’re around, even if the whole point of your being around is a stronger working relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all are having a good Friday! ❣️
> 
> Warnings: Cursing

Nathan doesn’t like the whole employer-employee thing. 

And you kinda get that, you do, but… The man is your boss, you’re there for work. It’s been a few months now of your coming out to the facility, and you’ve gotten used to _him_ \-- To Nathan, the _man_ , not Nathan the Voice, or Nathan the Email as you’ve known him before.   
  
You’re used to Nathan disappearing into his office, even when he knows that you’re around, even if the whole point of your being around is a stronger working relationship. You’re still getting emails from the guy and he’s down the hall.   
  
But sometimes he doesn’t answer your emails, even when you really need answers.

You mark them urgent, you send follow up after follow up, but that’s where you let it start and stop.  
  
At least, that’s where you let it start and stop until your fifth month there.   
  
You’re supposed to fly out that night.   
  
You’ve already scheduled the vacation day, told Nathan that you’ll be leaving, but he's either forgotten or he just doesn't take your time very fucking seriously.   
  
You’ve got access to his office, but you’ve never had to use it -- you only know that you’ve got access because your first weekend there, you went to every single door and swiped your ID card, just to see which ones would open. You had poked your head in, spotted the monitors and the wall that had essentially become a sea of post-its, but that had been the extent of your prying.   
  
But you’ve got a stack of shit that needs approval and needs it now and-- has he signed your timesheets? Shit, you need him to do that, too. It seems like a bad time to piss off the guy. He’s right, your instincts _are_ there, but what you do next isn’t a matter of application, it’s a matter of necessity.   
  
You swipe your card at the panel and push the door to Nathan’s office open. He doesn’t bother looking away from his monitor, and you kinda get it - it’s either you or Kyoko, and considering every inch of the place is covered in cameras (though you’re still not sure if that includes your room or not), it’s possible that he saw you coming.   
  
“Nathan?” You draw his attention, or try to - you get a half-hearted hum in response, and you take in a breath to steady yourself.   
  
“I need a couple of minutes of your time. I just sent you an email with a few things that need your signature before I leave, and--”   
  
“Later,” Nathan cuts you off with a dismissive little wave of his hand.   
  
It doesn’t take more than a couple of seconds for irritation to swell up in you, fierce and choking. You clench your jaw as you round into the office. You’d be a little more distracted by the fact that the guy is shirtless if you weren’t so fucking peeved right now. You stand behind his monitors and take a deep breath before you stare him down.   
  
“Do you remember when I got here for the first time and tripped over my feet and couldn’t look you in the eye for like, five minutes?”   
  
Nathan’s eyes drift up to yours, and he’s clearly annoyed and intrigued by the fact that you’re still there.   
  
“You told me that you wanted to just move past the whole employee-employer thing, right?” You add.  
  
“Right.”   
  
“So why are you treating me like a faceless fucking intern? I get that you’ve got work to do, but so do I, and I can’t get my shit done unless I get your approval, so can you take like five minutes out of your busy schedule of genius-ing and sign the fucking forms?”   
  
“... _Genius-ing_?” He repeats after a solid three blinks. You brace your hands on the desk and let your head drop forward and your eyes close as you grumble, “Okay, that was the last thing I needed you to take from that.”   
  
You hear a few clicks, and then,  
  
“... Is it the email titled ‘ _If Bateman Opens This Without Me Asking Him To, I Will Leave My Body To Science_ ’?”   
  
“Uh huh. Thank you.”   
  
You straighten up and start heading for the door.   
  
“What a loss. Your brain oughta be studied,” He mutters, and you know it’s not a compliment, but it makes you smile anyway.


	4. Needle-Sharp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will not admit it to him, but you spend way too much trying to parse Nathan’s comments for secret meanings, reading between the lines of straightforward emails for something you might be missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all are having a good week! ❣️
> 
> Warnings: Cursing; alcohol consumption

“You’re in a quiet mood.”  
  
You glance up at Nathan from your food and give him a small smile, mutter your apology. He waves it off, shaking his head as he tacks on,  
  
“It wasn’t a complaint.” 

You fight the urge to furrow your brow at that. Does that mean he likes it better when you don’t talk? 

You will not admit it to him, but you spend way too much trying to parse Nathan’s comments for secret meanings, reading between the lines of straightforward emails for something you might be missing. Maybe it’s because you’ve finally met the man, and because you’re around him on a semi-regular basis now, but he makes you feel… A little stupid, sometimes.  
  
You don’t think he does it on purpose, or maybe even realizes that he’s doing it. It’s in the way he answers you now and again, with his back to you and an eye roll in his voice.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” He asks as he reaches for his drink. And yes, it would probably be wiser to lie, but you say,

“What I’d be doing if I wasn’t here.”  
  
“At the facility?”  
  
You shake your head, clarify, “What I’d be doing if you’d gotten a real assistant.”  
  
His brows arch.  
  
“Are you not a _real_ assistant? Because, technically, if we’re comparing you to Kyoko…”  
  
“I _mean_ if you’d actually back-filled for the position. If I’d been temporary, like you’d originally planned.”  
  
“What’s got you thinking about that?”  
  
“Why do you care?”  
  
You don’t mean it harshly, but the query seems distinctly un-Nathan to you at just this moment. But he doesn’t balk at you, just takes a sip from his glass.  
  
“And are you saying that your artificial intelligence isn’t real and tangible? Because the existence of wetware and the neural processing software that you’ve developed might beg to differ,” You add, reaching out for your beer.  
  
The corner of Nathan’s mouth quirks into a small smile.  
  
“Your application’s improving,” He tells you, lifting a finger from his glass to point at you, and you huff a small laugh and let your eyes lower to your plate again as a little balloon full of pride bubbles up in your stomach.  
  
“What would you be doing?”  
  
“I don’t know,” You admit.  
  
“What _would_ you do? You can pick any job in the world, don’t have to worry about qualifications, training... What is it?” He presses. You mull over that for a moment, your mouth twisting as you consider.  
  
“...Wow,” Nathan speaks into your silence, and you scoff, that _stupid_ feeling needle-sharp and popping the prideful balloon.  
  
“Well excuse me for not actively dreaming about labor.”  
  
“Sure you’re not just holding back to spare my feelings?”  
  
“You have those?”  
  
Nathan’s lips quirk again. You notice that happens when you snipe back at him, when you further toe that employer-employee line that he loathes so much.  
  
“A couple,” He nods.  
  
“What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this?” You nod toward the elevator. Nathan starts to shake his head, and you hurry to add,  
  
“No, come on. You wake up tomorrow-- No one knows who you are. Blue Book’s gone, your work here, gone. What do you do?”  
  
Nathan regards you for a moment before he says, “Start from the ground up again.”  
  
“...That’s it?”  
  
“That’s it.” 

“And if you couldn’t?” 

“I would.”  
  
You’re both quiet for a moment before you mutter, “Life, uh, finds a way,” In your best Ian Malcolm impression.  
  
It catches Nathan off-guard, and his laugh splutters into his glass. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot as that prideful little balloon bubbles up again.


	5. Snowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, there are arguably worse ways to spend it, but you don’t want to spend your birthday at your boss’ house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all are having a good week! ❣️
> 
> Warnings: Cursing; alcohol consumption

You kinda figured that this would happen sooner or later, but son of a bitch, why does it have to be this weekend?

Look, there are arguably worse ways to spend it, but you don’t want to spend your birthday at your boss’ house. And hell, you’re trying not to pout like a little bitch, but you had _plans_. Not big ones, but nice ones. Instead of those plans, though, you’re sitting alone in the kitchen with the dinner you made for yourself because, well-- your boss is in his office, probably, and his robot maid isn’t programmed to be chatty, and you’re sulking.   
  
Nathan knows you’re still around, had very simply said, “The chopper isn’t gonna come through a blizzard, princess.”  
  
You’re glad his back was to you when he said so.  
  
You aren’t proud of it, but Nathan calling you _that_ has… A minor effect on you.   
  
He’d started saying it mockingly, when he’d first told you that you’d have to walk from where the helicopter would be leaving you to the facility.   
  
“It’s _how_ far?” You’d asked, and Nathan had scoffed, “I’m sorry, is that too much? I’ll order the carriage for you, princess.”   
  
You’d only been able to splutter in response as Nathan’s instructions had just continued on the other end of the phone. It had stuck. Nathan doesn’t use it often, mind, and he’s usually teasing when he does, but dammit if you don’t find yourself feeling a little flustered when he does.   
  
You’ve never even been big on birthdays, but at least you’ve had the option to be.   
  
Either way, instead of at home with your friends, you’re in the middle of nowhere... Basically alone… And _seriously_ considering dipping into your boss’ extensive alcohol reserves.   
  
\-- 

He’s a _billionaire_ , right? He’s not gonna dock you for opening a bottle.   
  
… Is he? 

\--   
  
“I’d dock that if it wasn’t your birthday.”   
  
You glance back toward the sound of Nathan’s voice.   
  
“Feeling generous, huh?” You ask, and normally you’d second-guess teasing the guy, but you’re a little buzzed and you’ve been drinking out of a 24 ounce glass for the last hour - the last two concoctions have been nearly equal parts gin and tonic.  
  
“A little,” Nathan plops down beside you on the couch, in front of the window wall where you’ve been watching the snow fall. He holds his hand out, and you glance down at what he could possibly be reaching for. You realize it’s your drink, and you hesitate before passing it over.   
  
You watch Nathan bring it to his nose, take a whiff, then whistle low.   
  
“Lighter fluid.”   
  
You roll your eyes and take the glass back when it’s offered.   
  
“If I knew you were gonna be stuck here, I would’ve ordered a cake.”   
  
“No you wouldn’t have.”   
  
“No, I wouldn’t have. So how old are you?”   
  
“You don’t have to do this.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“This. Whatever you think you’re doing.”   
  
“Being friendly?”   
  
“Yes. It’s freaking me out.”   
  
“You’re snappy with a couple in you, huh?”   
  
“Is that why Kyoko can’t talk? Don’t like it when people get snappy?”   
  
Nathan’s brows rise as his head tips toward you in surprise. And now the nerves are rising up in your stomach again, bolstered by the bottle that you opened. But you don’t immediately shy away from his sharp gaze like you usually do.   
  
You do look away first, though, and raise your glass back to your lips.   
  
“You should do that more.”   
  
“What?” You ask.   
  
“Let your mouth run. I’m not gonna bite, princess.”   
  
You only _just_ manage to hold in a retort of, ‘ _Too bad_ ’. Instead you drain your drink and get up to make yourself another.


	6. Types and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything that Nathan does is deliberate, especially where his technology is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cursing; mentions of porn; mentions of religion
> 
> I hope y’all are having a good week! ❣️

You often wonder about Kyoko. 

Everything that Nathan does is deliberate, especially where his technology is involved. On the rare occasion Nathan does have someone else out to the facility, someone that isn’t you and doesn’t know better, he uses Kyoko’s looks and silence to pass the her off as hired help. But--

 _But_ with your knowing better, and with your understanding of Nathan’s painstaking _deliberateness_ , you can’t help but wonder if Kyoko also… Looks the way that she looks because she’s kinda Nathan’s type.  
  
You liken the assumption to the art Nathan has around the house. The Pollack and the Renoir - it’s the process he claims, sure, but you’re willing to bet that deep down there must be some aesthetic appreciation, right? At least a little bit. Because as much as Nathan fancies himself a God, he’s as mortal as you are. At the beginning, you weren’t sure, but now, you know it’s the truth.  
  
What kind of a God gets hangovers? 

\-- 

You’ve seen the faces in the hallway, Nathan’s past prototypes - they don’t all look like Kyoko. Does he always cater, you wonder, only to the person that’s testing his technology? Or is a little of what he wants in there, too? 

And why are they always women? 

Does it lend an air of trustworthiness, or some fucked-up assumption of innocence? Is it in the grand tradition of creations - ships, systems, being named after women? Or is it simply because it _is_ and that’s what he wants? 

God created Adam in his image, and Eve so that Adam would not be alone, but Nathan… Created who knows which based on who knows whose porn history. Did he create Kyoko based on his own? _Or_ did he choose to play on people’s biases and their assumptions that he’s just that much of an asshole?

If he were testing you, what would your prototype look like? 

You scour your mind for the porn you’ve watched, the images you’ve seen, the books you’ve read, the people you've liked. A clear composite image won’t populate. 

You just see Nathan. 

\--

_Did he know what you looked like before you arrived?_

You send him a file. He opens it, speed-reads it, sends it back with his approval.

_He must’ve known--_

He asks you about a conference coming up in a month and you tell him about the arrangements that have been made.

 _You certainly knew what_ he _looked like._

He wants a different hotel booked. You can do that. 

_If he didn’t, then in his mind, did he substitute one of the faces in the hallway for yours? Or maybe Kyoko’s-- or some other placeholder that pleased him? Or were you just some grey box?  
  
_“Hey.”  
  
“Yeah?” You ask, eyes still on your screen. _  
_

_What imperative would he have to interact with a grey box?_

You jump a little, yanking your hands back as your laptop is nearly closed on your fingers. Your eyes lift to Nathan’s, brow furrowed. 

“What is it?”

“Where’s your head at? Because it’s not here.” 

You shake your head, “I was paying attention.”

“You were answering me, but you weren’t paying attention. Pretty impressive multitasking, princess,” He adds. You're careful not to shrink back under his scrutiny, at the use of the pet name-- or the taunt, you’re not sure which it is just now. 

“I was paying attention,” You repeat your lie with more conviction, “And re-booking your hotel. If you move your hand, I can finish doing that. If you _don’t_ , you can just re-book it yourself.”

He gives you a long look before his hand slides away. 

You open your laptop again, eyes set intently on the screen. 

Honestly. 

What kind of a God stays at a _Hyatt_? 


	7. Doing the Roomba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How exactly does someone get from ‘I’m going to construct artificial intelligence’ to ‘I wanna fuck it’?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Cursing; mentions of explicit sex
> 
> I hope y’all are having a good week! ❣️

How does one program a robot to have sex?   
  
Code, right? Probably code. It would have to be.   
  
Is it, like, if/then sequencing?   
  
-+--------+--IF-- _Nathan_bends_me_over_counter_ \--THEN--_ _brace_self_ \--------+--------->

'- _label: kitchen fuck_ :-' 

'-ELSE-+--------+-' 

'- _keep_cleaning_counter_ -'  
  
Or did Nathan bother to program anal through binary? You can’t imagine he would, it seems too old-fashioned. Did Nathan have to build a program specifically for sex? He must’ve, right? But does Kyoko even _have_ an asshole? She doesn’t need one to function-- And then if there is one there, it’s gotta be for Nathan’s benefit, not for hers.   
  
How exactly does someone get from ‘ _I’m going to construct artificial intelligence_ ’ to ‘ _I wanna fuck it_ ’? And by that token, if Nathan sees his technology as an extension of himself… Is it technically masturbating? 

You lay in bed, desperately trying to rid your mind of the sight of your boss bending his robot-maid over the kitchen counter and fucking into her viciously. 

And then burst into giggles when you wonder if the same thing couldn’t be achieved with a docked Roomba that has a fleshlight strapped to it. 

\--

There are some status items that you thought this morning’s meeting might start with, but, “So you saw me fucking Kyoko?” Wasn’t one of them. You’re not even sure how he saw you, or when; it wasn’t like you made popcorn, pulled up a folding chair and a pair of binoculars and stayed for the damn show.   
  
You’d walked in, spotted them doing-- well _him_ doing-- and had turned around, deciding that you could let him know that you'd arrived at the facility later. As you’d left, you’d put a reminder in your phone to wipe the counter down before you made dinner that night.   
  
Was he watching the security feed back or something? Kinky bastard.   
  
And there are a lot more articulate ways for you to answer, but his question has left you so gobsmacked that you simply manage a, "Yeah.”   
  
And now Nathan is leaning back in his seat, and he’s waiting, and you frown, because you don’t know what he’s waiting _for_.   
  
So, “What is it?” you press.   
  
“You don’t have questions?”   
  
A nervous laugh bubbles out of you, “No, dude, my parents gave me that talk when I was like, twelve.”   
  
Nathan’s brows quirk, and you arch one in turn, shaking your head a little.   
  
“I mean if you wanna talk about fucking your robot, that’s one thing, but if you sincerely thought I’d have questions, then you think I’m like, ridiculously naïve... or just incredibly dumb -- both of which are a little concerning and pretty insulting.”   
  
Nathan nods once, sits up, and starts in again, this time with, “Where are we with EVTech’s conference call?”   
  
And thank _fuck_ , because _this_ you have an answer ready for.   
  
\--  
  
“I don’t think you’re dumb or naïve.”   
  
And that’s a relief to hear. You don’t look away from where you’re working Nathan’s (overpriced - you checked) espresso machine as he tells you so.   
  
“If I thought you were, you wouldn’t be working for me,” He adds. You hum, nodding a little, and ask, “Want one?” As the machine hums and twin streams of espresso pour into one of those teeny-tiny mugs that make you feel like a cartoon giant.   
  
“No.”   
  
You nod again, bracing your hands against the counter (which you wiped down already, just in case).   
  
“So you did _just_ wanna talk about fucking your robot?” You bat back at him, turning your head to watch him grab a beer from the fridge. He rolls his eyes.   
  
“I wanted to see what you’d say.”   
  
“Did I disappoint?”   
  
“You never disappoint.”   
  
He’s holding your gaze as he tells you so; his delivery is deadpan, but his eyes are soft. Your stomach flips. It’s too nice; this feels like a trick. So you straighten and shrug and reach for the tiny cup.   
  
“Gimme time, Bateman. I’m only human.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that you’re coming out to the facility every other weekend to work with Nathan in-person, you’ve seen your boss in various states of disarray.

“Jesus, Bateman,” You sigh at the sight of him, shaking your head. 

He doesn’t answer you, just hits the _On_ button on his blender before you can judge him aloud any further. The guy looks more dead than you’ve seen him before. Now that you’re coming out to the facility every other weekend to work with Nathan in-person, you’ve seen your boss in various states of disarray. He’s usually got it together by the time you arrive, but you’ve caught him on the tail-end of a hard night before.   
  
You know what it means when you arrive to find him sweat-drenched and blending a green smoothie.   
  
Nathan stops the blender and pours the smoothie into two cups, holding one out for you. You smile a little bit, shrugging your backpack off and setting it down beside the counter. He always makes enough for you when he knows you’ll be turning up in the morning.   
  
“How was your hike?”   
  
Christ, his voice is rough and low, what the hell did he get up to?   
  
“Mandatory,” Is your answer, and he gives you a grin as he takes a sip from his glass.   
  
“Drink up,” He orders, “I threw in some cayenne pepper for an extra kick.”   
  
You hum, interested as you take a sip.   
  
“I worry about you, you know,” You tell him, watching him begin to clean up the kitchen. And yeah, you’re teasing, mostly, but sometimes Nathan… Concerns you. You can tell with the way he scoffs that he manages to see through the tease.   
  
“You don’t have to worry about me, princess.”   
  
“It’s actually my job to worry about you. Seriously, Bateman, I don’t know how you function. I used to wonder why you don’t have a cat or a dog or something, but I get it now. You probably couldn’t even keep a fish alive.”   
  
He cuts you a look over his shoulder, repeats, “A fish?”   
  
“A fish.”   
  
“I have literally created an AI that’s intelligent enough to manipulate a man into both trusting and freeing it and you don’t think I could keep a fish alive?”   
  
You consider that for a moment before you double down: “That is what I’m saying, yeah.”   
  
Nathan rolls his eyes, turning back to the sink.   
  
“Drink your smoothie, princess. When you’re done we can go looking for those IQ points that you lost on your hike up here. Maybe if we find ‘em we can rub them together and make a fire.”   
  
\--   
  
Nathan’s got access to your phone and computer. You know that. It’s hard to get anything by him. So the next time you’re getting ready to go up there, you’re careful in planning a little surprise.  
  
You pay for it in cash, even spring for the supplies.   
  
\--  
  
When he doesn’t meet you upstairs, you know that he must be working. If Nathan isn’t somewhere in the upper level when you get there, that means he’s in his office, and _busy_. That’s not gonna stop you, though.   
  
You know that there’s a chance that Nathan’s seen you as soon as you’ve gotten there, has checked the security cameras to make sure you’re in one piece, but you set your things down before heading down to his office with your _surprise_.   
  
He doesn’t even look away from his monitor as you come into his office.   
  
“You make good time?” He asks, in that monotone that tells you that he doesn’t really care. You don’t answer, just place the gift on his desk.   
  
That finally draws his attention.   
  
“What. Is. That.”   
  
“I’ve been calling him Sharky,” You admit, folding your arms and watching Nathan stare daggers at the lone goldfish, “But I don’t think he’d be upset if you called him something else.”   
  
“Why is... _He_ on my desk?”   
  
“Because he’s yours. You did say you could keep a fish alive, didn’t you?” You remind Nathan with a bright smile, “Don’t worry, I got some food for him. Can’t have you giving the little dear beer.”   
  
“...If you don’t remove that fish immediately, you’re fuckin’ fired.”   
  
“Then this is my parting gift.” 


End file.
